Stolen
by XxFearTheFluffxX
Summary: It wasn't his to steal; he shouldn't have taken it. He had no right to use it against her like that and he was wrong to make her believe in his fanciful lies. But who's really to blame? The thief... or the one who allowed it to be stolen? AidouxOC


_Give it back..._

He stole it. She was helpless to stop him, helpless to defend herself against his guile and because of that, he took it from her. Took it as easily as one would take candy from a baby.

_It doesn't belong to you..._

Even now, when she knew it was too little too late, she desperately reached for it, grasping at the darkness it's absence left behind in hopeless desperation to reclaim that which was rightfully hers. But he held it tight; he wouldn't let go. And no matter how hard she struggled, no matter how fiercely she fought, his grip never loosened – not for a second.

_I... I want it back..._

It wasn't his to toy with. Wasn't his to hold in his palm and pull and twist and distort as he pleased. He had no right to hold it. He had no right to control her with it, bending her to his will through her need for it. But he _did._ And he would for evermore. He would keep her there, unable to fight back, for the rest of eternity. And there was _nothing_ she could do about it.

_Why..._

Why wouldn't he release her? Why did he continue to torture her so? Because she was _human_? Did he _like_ having her so completely powerless against him? Or was it her blood? Did he see her as a self-replenishing blood bank? Is that why he dangled it in front of her nose, teasing her with it like a cat with a string, pulling it away just before she could reclaim it?

_This is... sinful... _wrong...

This wasn't how things were supposed to be. She was stronger than this. _Had_ been stronger than this. Before she'd met him, no one had ever been able to take something so important from her. _No one_. But now... He'd taken it so effortlessly; she was interminably ashamed that she'd allowed it to happen. It had been weak of her. But she was weaker still, because she went on deluding herself with lies, fantasies, that everything would be okay, when it clearly wouldn't be. It _couldn't_ be. Because he was vampire. And she was not.

_Let it go... Let me go..._

She couldn't force him to let go. As much as she hated it, she was his slave now. Body, mind, soul... He could chew her up and spit her out any number of times and she would still follow him... because he still had it. He kept it with him at all times. Because of that, because he never relinquished his hold, she had no choice but to do anything for him. There was no limit to the lengths she'd go to for him because if she didn't, she'd forever abandon hope of having it returned to her.

_It's not fair..._

That subservience... he used it time and again when she allowed him to drink from her. In her loneliest hours, when he grew tired of her and left, taking it with him, she would relive the experiences again and again and again... until she felt physically sick. The painful yet erotic feel of his razor sharp fangs piercing her neck; the wet swallowing sounds of him gulping down her lifeblood; the light-headed euphoria; the look in his eyes when he pulled back, wiping the trail of blood – _her_ blood – from his chin; the hurt when he lied to her, as he always did...

_Why me?_

There were plenty of other girls in the Day Class. Many hundreds of them, all of whom would be _willing_ to become his plaything. Why did he have to chose _her_? She hadn't asked for this. She wasn't _special_. She was plain; _ordinary_. Collar-length, auburn hair; grass-green eyes; a small, _weak_ frame... nothing extraordinary at all. Why couldn't he leave her be?

"What're you thinking about, hm?" a voice so familiar whispered in her ear. It was a voice laced with amusement and that playboy attitude he was so famous for; she found herself subject to it's charms despite her reservations about him.

Chills flashed up her spine and her chest throbbed painfully where her heart should have been... But of course _wasn't_, because he'd stolen it from her. She met his turquoise gaze, a gaze full of impenetrable ice and yet warm and soft in the same instant. _This_... This was one of the weapons he used to hold her heart and keep it from her. This was one of the things that rendered her incapable of fighting his hold on her.

"Finished already?" she whispered, her small, tired hand reaching up to feel her neck nervously, as she always did after he'd fed. Something – her masochistic side, she guessed – always made her burn with the need to confirm the horrible truth whenever he finished with her. She _needed_ to feel the puncture wounds, _needed_ to prod at them and wince at the sting left by her unsterilised fingers...

As usual, the look on his face as she felt the wounds he'd left was a mixture of regret, sadness and... and that emotion she chose to ignore in him. The one put there simply for the purpose of strengthening his hold on her, as if he should need to tighten his rein any further. She was already as tied to him as it was possible for anyone to be.

"Mm. I'm done." he affirmed gently, stroking her cheek with a long, warm finger. She stared at the ceiling of her bedroom, allowing his ministrations because there was simply _nothing_ she could do to stop them. "Did I hurt you?"

She shook her head. He never did. And in more ways than one, that just made it worse.

"What are you thinking about, Yumeko?" he asked again, bending down to nuzzle her cheek, his flyaway blonde hair tickling her nose and eyes.

She bit her lip. She didn't want to tell him. But she knew better than to expect she'd be able to resist for long.

Reaching for him, she held his head against her chest, the area where her heart _should_ be but wasn't, because he'd taken it away from her – perhaps for good, she realised. But holding him like this, against the organ which pumped her blood but wasn't her heart, made her feel complete again, if only for a moment. It was as if she'd taken her heart back from him and she loved that feeling, even if it was just an illusion.

"I was... musing... about how you've stolen it from me." she mumbled into his hair, breathing in his odd peachy scent. It did no good to lie to him. Nor to tell partial truths. He could see straight through her as easily as if she were glass. "You've stolen it, Hanabusa. And you won't give it back."

He tried to look up at her but there was something horrible in her eyes and she didn't want him to see it. If he did he would leave – maybe for good – and then she'd never get it back. He would take it with him.

"_What_?" he asked, sounding almost horrified by her claim.

"My heart. You've stolen it. And I want it back because... because I know you're only going to hurt me with it."

This time, when he tried to look up, she couldn't stop him. He was stronger than her after all – she was only human and he was something else. Something much more powerful than she was. She turned away, looking at the wall beside her bed but he gently forced her to face him again, that emotion she chose to ignore burning bright in the frost of his eyes.

"You think I'll hurt you?" he questioned, seeming offended by the very thought. She nodded miserably. "What makes you think that, angel?"

"Well... You're... you know... All I'm good for to you is blood. I have nothing else to offer you and I know that – I _understand_ that. And I know that one day you'll get bored of me and you'll leave... and you'll take my heart with you." she muttered, her voice trembling and breaking in places. He said nothing; just watched and waited for her to finish. "I _need_ it, Hanabusa. I can't live without it. And... I can't live without _you."_

Minutes passed in contemplative silence. Tears began to dribble traitorously from her eyes. Then, quite suddenly, he leant over her again and kissed her damp cheeks, softly, _lovingly_. He chuckled deep in his throat, that endearing chuckle that had the other Day Class girls mere puddles at his feet.

"So _that's_ it, huh? I wondered why you seemed to be holding back all the time... why you acted like you were trying to push me away." he sighed, his warm breath, scented with the iron-like tang of her blood, brushing her skin like the kiss of the wind, raising hairs all over her body. "But you don't have to worry anymore, Yumeko, because I promise you this – I _swear _it – I'll never _ever_ hurt you. You're not just a blood donor; you're not _even_ a blood donor. I'm sorry if I gave you that impression – we vampires, we... we thirst for the blood of the ones we care about. I drink your blood because..." he hesitated. "because I love you."

She gasped, looking up at him, begging herself not to fall for his tricks. He'd said it before and, she had no doubt, would say it again; this was the very lie that hurt her so much whenever he was around because, against her better judgement, she _wanted_ to believe it. But the way he'd said it this time – so sweetly, so sincerely – pulled at the walls she'd erected to protect the rest of her being from him. His eyes, those icy blue orbs, glittered with conviction; with _love_. And just like that, he stole the rest of her. It wasn't just her heart anymore. He owned her all. Her very reason for living, for continuing to breathe, was for him.

Grasping at his shirt, she pulled him as close as was physically possible, sobbing against him in a combination of infatuation, adoration and mourning. She mourned the loss of her self but at the same time rejoiced, for she knew she was in good hands.

"I l-love you t-t-too, Hanabusa!" she cried in between breathless sobs.

"Shh... It's alright. C'mon, quit with the tears, hm?" he laughed, rubbing her back and comforting her like no one else could. "And just for the record, I'm not the only thief here. You stole my heart first."

_Don't let your lights go down_

_Don't let your fire burn out_

_'Cause somewhere, somebody needs_

_A reason to believe_

_Why don't you rise up now?_

_Don't be afraid to stand out_

_That's how the lost get found_


End file.
